


Dance Card

by Defiler_Wyrm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Background Character Death, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, I reject your canon and substitute my own, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, The real Steve Rogers would never, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 19:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18629686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defiler_Wyrm/pseuds/Defiler_Wyrm
Summary: ***ENDGAME SPOILERS***Steve has one last thing to do before he can rest. It's not often you get a second chance, and this time he's not going to let it slip through his fingers. Only the second chance he's been given isn't the one he expected—even if he should have.





	Dance Card

**Author's Note:**

> ***ENDGAME SPOILERS***  
> TURN BACK NOW IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ENDGAME AND DON'T WANT SPOILERS!
> 
> The last 5-10 minutes of Endgame was so horrifically, unspeakably bad a friend and I literally stayed up all night into the next day ranting about how unacceptable it was. Somewhere along the way, I came up with a far fuckin' better way to have ended the movie, if they weren't gonna just stop at the funeral or Steve stepping onto the quantum platform.

When all is said and done, the Infinity Stones all belong a certain somewhere and somewhen. Steve’s eidetic memory makes him a natural choice to take them all the place-times they need to be, he argues, and no one really has it in them to naysay him. Tony is gone; Banner—Hulk—he’s not sure what to call this duality they’ve settled into—is the only one who knows how to operate the portal. It has to be Steve. He knows what he needs to do.

But first.

Suited up, he leads Bucky on a walk beside the lake. He’s just steeled himself and taken a deep breath when his friend cuts him off at the pass.

“You’re going back to her, aren’t you.” Bucky isn’t quite looking at him. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Steve would know his brave-face smile in total darkness. He knows there’s a heart breaking behind it.

He has to look away. “Not every day you get a second chance.”

Bucky’s arm whirs and clinks beneath his leather jacket. It suits him. Tight coats always have. His hair falls to hide his face as he nods and glances out at the water. “I get it. I’d go back too if I had a chance to see someone I loved before...all this. Seems like we’ve been given more than our share of second chances. Never know when they’re gonna run out. So you gotta.” He swallows. “Better use it while you can.”

Steve pinches the inside of his cheek between his eye teeth, and sways over to hip-check Bucky lightly. “Come with me.”

His friend tilts his head to peer at him with brow furrowed. “Don’t know if you remember, pal, but most of the twentieth century wasn’t so great for me the first time around.”

“It won’t be like that this time,” Steve cajoles. “I mean you, as you are now, free, stable. Semi-stable.”

Bucky frowns and shakes his head. “But it will be. I’ll still be there. The other me. And you can’t help him,” he shrugs. “You can’t change it. The scientists and wizards agree on that.”

He stops short, and Steve stops a pace ahead. Bucky makes eye contact as he closes the distance, pushing into Steve’s personal space. “You know what happened. Not just me. Hydra. Korea. Vietnam. Tiananmen. Kennedy. Cambodia. Watergate. Iran. Serbia. The Towers. Insight. Howard and Maria. New York. All of it. You won’t be able to change them, let alone stop them.”

He pauses, eyes on Steve’s chest now. Bucky swipes his flesh hand over his mouth. Steve’s fists clench. It’s a long list and there’s an awful lot more.

“I’m not saying don’t go,” he says carefully. “I’m not that selfish. Even if I wanna be. Just...try to understand what you’re in for, what it’s gonna be like to stand by and watch this happen. By the time you’re back here and now, if you come back—”

Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder. The leather sleeve is as supple as the vibranium beneath it is unyielding. He clasps the other, too, just to feel the give of his friend’s own flesh beneath a hand. “I’ll always come back.”

Bucky’s right hand comes to rest on Steve’s left. His face softens. “It’s okay. I get it. Some things are worth it. Some  _ people  _ are worth it.”

_ Do you think you’re not? _ Steve’s mind screams, but the words turn to ash on his tongue. He drops his hands and reaches instead for the shield.

“If...if you’re not coming, at least take this.”

He tries to push it into Bucky’s hands, but his friend gently pushes it right back.

“I can’t, Steve. I’ll fight by your side whenever you want me there but I’m so tired and that this is so heavy. I can’t be you.” Bucky’s smile turns apologetic. “But I know someone else who could.”

Steve follows his gaze back towards the platform—to Sam. Sam Wilson is a good man, better than most. He’s only human, but what a human he is. Yeah. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it before.

The shield returns to its harness. He cups a hand around the back of Bucky’s head and pulls him close to press their foreheads together.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “this isn't the end of the line. I'll be back. No matter what, I will find you again.”

Bucky squeezes Steve's biceps. “You always do.”

 

.oOo.

 

“To us it'll be five seconds,” Banner tells him.

“I'll miss you, pal,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve takes a deep breath as the platform lights up. The last thing he sees before reality turns inside-out is that brave-face smile again.

He’s not there to see Bucky turn away from the machine with his shoulders sagging under the weight of being alone.

 

.oOo.

 

Putting the Infinity Stones back when and where they belong is, to say the least, a challenge, especially given the complications of 2012. He lingers there a hair too long. He catches a glimpse of himself fighting himself and has to sit down for a moment. But he has to move on. There’s only a little more left for him to do, as tired as he is.

One more jump. It’s 1955 and there’s no internet for his equipment to hijack. Phone books have to suffice. And finally, there she is, opening the door and gasping at the sight of him.

Peggy Carter is stunned. Peggy Carter is older. Peggy Carter claps a hand to her beautiful red mouth and sobs.

“Steve,” she chokes, “you’re alive. How…?”

He steps forward to fold her into his arms. Her hair is styled different but still smells as sweet. “I couldn’t leave you waiting forever.”

She stills and pulls back to look up at him. “Oh, Steve,” she says gently, “I didn’t.”

Steve blinks. He offers no resistance as she takes him by the hand and leads him into the living room of her warm, tidy house. A row of framed photographs—mostly black and white, a few of them in color—line the mantel. A few show Peggy receiving military commendations. Others show a handsome man with a cane doing the same. Most are of the two of them together. In many, there’s a small child with them, growing from infant to toddler.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

His face crumbles for only a moment before he steels himself.

Peggy’s voice is soft but unapologetic. “It’s been ten years, darling. I’ve been married for three.” She rubs the tip of a manicured finger fondly across the child’s face. “Our first. We named him James.”

Steve’s chest and throat squeeze tight. He hasn’t had an asthma attack since he came out of Howard’s machine, but it feels an awful lot like he’s having one now.

“He’s beautiful. He has your eyes,” he forces out. It’s a genuine statement; it’s just suddenly hard to speak. Steve picks up one of the photos of—of her husband. “So this is Daniel early on.”

Ah, shit, Steve. He winces as soon as he realizes the words actually left his mouth. There’s a distinct click to his right.

All the warmth has left Peggy’s voice: “I didn’t tell you his name.”

Slowly, carefully, Steve raises his hands and turns towards her. Sure enough, she has a gun trained on him and a look in her eyes he hasn’t seen since the last time she shot at him.

“I can explain,” he tries, then makes a face. “I mean. I  _ can’t _ explain. It’s complicated. But Peggy—”

“Whoever sent you, this is the lowest of the low.”

It’s like piano wire around his heart. “Peggy, it’s me.”

She narrows her eyes. The gun doesn’t waver. “Either you can explain or you can’t, but you have one chance to do so, and I suggest you use it.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, takes a moment, and gives her a pained smile. “I can’t tell you how I got here, but I’m here. Because—I still owe you a dance. Even though it seems like you found another partner.”

For a long moment she stares at him just as incredulously as she had when she first opened the door. Then her eyes soften, even if her aim doesn’t. “Where did you come from? Really?”

Fuck, he shouldn’t breathe a word. He doesn’t exactly want to get shot, either. It’s never any fun. “Not where. When.”

She stares some more. Something dawns on her face, then turns to confusion. This time the gun turns away from him, so he lowers his hands some. “That’s...that isn’t….”

“Possible? Not yet.” God, Steve shut  _ up. _

Peggy steps back and gazes into the middle distance, shaking her head a little. He can commiserate. It reminds him a great deal of waking up to a radio playing a “live” cast of a baseball game he’d been at in person. He opens his mouth to say something else but she holds up her free hand to stall him.

“Stop, don’t—don’t tell me anything.”

“I’m tryin’ not to,” he huffs.

She shakes her head again and this time it’s more emphatic. “You shouldn’t be here then. I mean. You shouldn’t be _ now _ .” She puts a hand to her forehead. “But you’re alive. Howard was right. My God, you’re out there somewhere still, alive.”

Carefully, Steve reaches for her. “Peg I’m here,  _ now _ . Please.”

But she steps just out of reach. “And you can’t stay. Even if you were from...now...our paths forked away from each other long ago. You were gone and what was I to do, wear a veil the rest of my life? I  _ lived,  _ Steve. I made a life here with Daniel, with James….” She uncocks and holsters her gun, and lays a hand on her lower belly. Now that he really looks, it’s not as flat as he remembers. “...With Dorothy. Or Timothy, however it turns out.”

He flashes a smile at her, and she returns it. There’s a multitude of unspoken words in each one. Suddenly a spike of selfishness spears Steve’s heart: he has enough Pym particles left that he could go back further. He could go back to the war. Before she had moved on, before she met Daniel, and—

He recoils from thought. It horrifies him. It  _ disgusts _ him.

Tony had turned them all away for just that. He refused to help them unless they let him keep what he’d created in the five years since Thanos. He couldn’t take Tony’s daughter from him. How could he ever presume to take Peggy’s family from her?

He sighs through his nose. “You’re right. This isn’t my time. I’m happy for you, I really am, that you’ve moved on. I guess I just need your help to move on, too.”

Peggy gives him a long look that suggests she’s figuring out something unpleasant. But she smiles, and moves across the room to put a record on the turntable. It’s been a long, long time since he heard this particular song but he’d know Ozzie Nelson anywhere. She smooths her dress down and holds out her hands. His breath catches. His feet move of their own accord.

They finally get their dance.

It’s not quite how he’d imagined. It would be everything he’d hoped for if not for the spectre of impermanence hanging over him now. The whole thing is bittersweet. He couldn’t live with himself if he tried to stay, but he’ll never forgive himself if he leaves without this one thing.

He turns his head towards her, and she turns too. Their eyes meet and an understanding passes between them in silence. He leans in—she closes her eyes—and he presses his lips to her cheek. Peggy opens her eyes in surprise, but smiles at him; she uses a soft grip on his jaw to guide his head lower so she can lay a tender kiss on his forehead in turn.

The song ends and they stand there holding hands for a long moment. God, she’s beautiful. If only he could have been the one to grow old with her. To give her children. To hold her at night. To taste her mouth and wake up to her smile. Alas.

He’s trying to muster words when Peggy speaks. “I’m not around when you’re from, am I.” She blinks, shakes her head, and waves it right off. “No, it’s alright. That’s one door I don’t mind staying closed for now. Only….”

She brushes hair off Steve’s forehead and cups his cheek. He sighs a bit, melting into her touch.

“Tell me you won’t be alone.”

Bucky is still waiting for him. Bucky, and Nat—no, he thinks with a sharp ache, not anymore. But Sam, yes, Pepper and Morgan, Barton and his family, Bucky,  _ Bucky,  _ who never got to live a life either. God, he’s been a fool. He smiles again and this time it reaches his eyes.

“Not anymore,” he assures her.

Peggy nods, wiping her eyes, and pats his chest. “Good. I love you, Steve Rogers. Now you need to go.”

Once more his throat squeezes. He doesn’t want to go. He  _ must _ go.

She must see something in his face because she huffs a little laugh. “Go, you damned fool, you’re bungling up my timeline. We’ll keep looking for you. Go find a new dance partner.”

“God I love you, I always will,” he tells her. “I will. I’ll find—”

Steve, you fool. He doesn’t really need to look.

He kisses her cheek again and squeezes her hand. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

Steve can feel Peggy’s eyes on him as he steps back through the door and closes it behind him, so she doesn’t see him jumping back through time.

 

.oOo.

 

Sam and Banner are watching the platform expectantly when his vision clears. Bucky is still there, only he’s facing away, shoulders hunched— _ not _ expecting him back. It hurts to see. But they all look up when he appears and gasps his way out of the quantum suit’s helmet: Sam and Banner, satisfied; Bucky, like the rising sun.

“You came back.” The incredulity and wonder and  _ relief _ in Bucky’s strained voice makes Steve’s heart ache yet again.

Sam has a different reaction. He frowns at Bucky, then at Steve, and back. “Yyyyeah, that was the plan,” he says slowly. “That  _ was _ the plan? Steve?”

“I was always gonna come back.” He strides off the platform on a beeline towards Bucky. His friend is starry-eyed, but that expression crumbles into worry.

“What about your second chance?” Bucky asks.

Steve shakes his head a little, bittersweet again. He can still smell her perfume. “She found a new dance partner. I think it’s time I do the same.”

Bucky offers up a watery smile and slaps Steve’s arm. “Well good for you, pal. And good for her.”

Too selfless. Too brave. Steve can’t stand not having Bucky crushed to his chest in a hug a second longer. He catches Sam and Banner exchanging a look but God he just doesn’t  _ care _ . Not when Bucky is relaxing into his arms and burrowing his face into Steve’s neck.  _ Please, _ he prays,  _ let me not be reading this the wrong way. _

“Universe keeps giving me second chances,” he explains, giving Bucky a little squeeze. “I think it’s time I finally take the hint.”

Bucky makes a quizzical noise. Steve leans in to kiss it off his mouth. The next noise his friend makes is devastated, desperate. His lips are soft and plush in contrast to the scratchiness of his stubble. He’d worried it would be strange but no, it’s as natural as feeling grass under his feet, as natural as breathing. They cling to each other like they’re each other’s life rafts on a raging ocean. Steve sifts his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky keeps him pulled tight. When they come up for air and their misty eyes meet, they laugh, breathless, awestruck. This is no consolation prize.

Banner’s quiet voice breaks the silence. “Ohh I think a whole bunch of academics are gonna collect on some bets.”

Steve snorts. Bucky ignores it and drawls, “Just so happens I’ve kept an open slot on my dance card.”

Every thought he can muster is a grateful prayer. He cups Bucky’s face and smooches him again. “Better cancel any other names you got there, ‘cause I am not letting go again.”

Bucky sighs, beaming. Steve can’t quite recall the last time his friend looked legitimately at peace. And Bucky looks him in the eye and says, “There’s only ever really been one.”

He should have done this sooner. So much sooner. But at least, this once, he didn’t wait too long.


End file.
